Chapter 178 No.178

默认

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The WeatherMaker Hearts DesireBy Lady LiliumCharacters: 5203

Updated: 2018-07-11 19:02

A look of concern flickered across White Feather's face.

'Brice meant everything to my father, and when he died….' Amaia shook her head. 'Grief changes people. My father became neglectful. I never truly understood why…until I grew up. My other uncle, Arlen…he was always there to pick up the pieces. He was always there when my father wasn't. In a way, he became like a sort of second father to me, and he cared for my mother too, as she cared for him. I saw.' Amaia dropped her head. 'Life from then on was miserable. But I don't like to think of those days. I prefer to remember the days before that, when life was good.'

Amaia lifted her head, holding herself and leaning back against the wall.

'My parents were so in love. I remember seeing how happy they were together, sometimes they would play-fight as if they themselves were children, and no matter if they argued, they always made up in the end.' Amaia sighed. 'In the years that followed, after I came here…to this place, I would think of them…and remember. For all those years I have been trapped in these rooms….how I have longed for such love and devotion as my parents had for each other. How I have longed to love, and to be loved, to have a family of my own.'

'You are still young' White Feather said to her. 'Such things are still possible.'

She turned and walked away, heading to her bedroom, White Feather followed. As they went, the chink of armour could be heard. Amaia paused, seeing a man dressed all in armour from head to foot, standing in one of the archways. He shifted at the sight of her, only his eyes were visible through the narrow horizontal slit in the helmet that he wore. His weapon, a long golden lance with an unforgiving razor end, he held close to his side. His gaze followed Amaia as she crossed into the next room, as always, White Feather was unseen to him.

'It's been a long while since I've seen one of the guards' Amaia said to White Feather in a whisper. 'I wonder why he's suddenly appeared.'

'Maybe he wants to check up on you' White Feather offered. 'To see if you're ok.'

'Maybe' Amaia replied unconvinced. 'Maybe he just wants to check up on me.'

She entered her bedroom, closing behind her the double doors.

'Do you think I've been imprisoned here because of my powers?' she asked.

'It is a possibility' White Feather replied simply.

'Magic' Amaia uttered. 'It's a strange thing…isn't it?'

'It is.'

'I have magic' Amaia said. 'I feel it living within me. But even so I feel I know so little about it.'

'Weather Makers do not have specific powers' White Feather explained. 'Different Weather Makers have different ranges of ability, and can use various abilities and combine them. Air pressures, temperatures, humidity and so many different things can be done……the magic can be used in different ways. For fun, for murder….' White Feather shrugged. 'Many things.'

He glanced down at a table nearby.

'This is a curious little thing' White Feather smiled, picking up one of the small paper treasures that Amaia had created during her many days of boredom.

A little model of a horse made of colourful paper, with a little mane and tail that trailed down its body. Upon the table, were many other little paper creations, sheep and goats and little animals, alongside figures of men and women.

'It's very pretty isn't it?' White Feather said to Amaia. He gave her a devilish look. 'Make it dance.'

'If that is the case, then you will live your entire life in fear' White Feather told her. He lifted his hand, the paper horse resting on his open palm. 'Do not fear what you do not know. If you allow yourself to give into fear, it will consume you, control you.'

Amaia took a step back, thinking of what he said, thinking that perhaps he was right.

'Go on' White Feather pressed. 'Do it.'

She relented, for the first time in years, and only for the second time in her life, she gave into the powers that dwelt within her. She released her magic. Tickling her fingers through the air, she used her powers to dance the paper horse White Feather held. Behind him also the other paper figures she had made began to lift in the air, spinning and moving back and forth their tiny little legs. White Feather laughed in joy at the sight as Amaia pushed her magic further. The wind in the room picked up, engulfing the both of them in a strong gale. The long curtains hanging either side of the window lifted and shook violently around, and the sheets from the bed flew about the room.

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